But what? A guy falls off the Empire State Building, and seventy years later he’s important? How can that be? And how can slipping a proxy in there in his place do anything for anybody?

Well, we’ll find out, Dortmunder thought. Eventually, we’ll find out.

This smaller bridge was steeply arched, and Fitzroy stopped the van at the top of the hump. “All we have to do now,” he said, “is toss it over. Andy, would you open the doors back there?”

“Sure,” Kelp said, and got out, and Dortmunder reached forward to give Fitzroy a neck hold in the crook of his left arm while he reached for Fitzroy’s pistol. One crime a fat guy usually can’t commit is carrying a concealed weapon, so Dortmunder had known from the beginning that Fitzroy’s pistol was in the right-side pocket of his suit jacket, handy to his right hand. Handy to Dortmunder’s right hand, too. He pulled it out, a neat little Smith & Wesson .32 six-shot revolver with a cover over the firing pin, so it wouldn’t snag in a pocket.

Taking his bent left arm away from Fitzroy’s Adam’s apple, so the guy could start to breathe again, substituting for it the barrel of the pistol, touching Fitzroy’s head just behind his right ear, Dortmunder said, “Put both hands on the steering wheel, okay? Up high, where I can see them.”

Obeying, Fitzroy said, “What was—” But he had a little trouble with his throat, had to cough and ahem before he could start again. “What was that for, John? What are you—Why are you doing this? What are you doing?”

“At the moment,” Dortmunder told him, “I’m waiting for Andy to come back with your pal in the Voyager. Then we’ll see what happens next.”

Fitzroy kept trying to see Dortmunder in the nonexistent interior mirror. “You—How did you . . .” But then he ran down, had nothing more to say, and merely shook his head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Dortmunder said. “Listen, would you like to tell us the scam now?”

“What? Absolutely not!”

“Well, later then,” Dortmunder said, and the door behind him opened and a strange voice, talking very fast, said, “Well, I certainly don’t know what this is all about, I mean, a man should be able to park by the side of the road, a little meditation in the, in the darkness, I certainly don’t know what you people want from me.”

Still watching Fitzroy, Dortmunder said, “Andy, hit him with something.”

The voice stopped, and Kelp, behind Dortmunder in the doorway, said, “He was wired.”

That galvanized Fitzroy. He spun about, ignoring the pistol held to his head, and yelled at the people behind Dortmunder, “What?”

“I have no idea who you are, sir,” the new voice said, “and I would prefer to have nothing to do with whatever’s going on here tonight.”

“Irwin?” screamed Fitzroy. “You’ve been tape-recording us? You miserable sneak!”

There was a little pause. Fitzroy’s face was now inches from Dortmunder’s, his eyes focused in wrath toward the people in back. Then the focus shifted, and he and Dortmunder gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. Dortmunder smiled amiably and showed him the pistol. “Just go with the flow, Fitzroy,” he advised.

From behind him, the new voice said, “One has to protect oneself around you, Fitzroy.”

“Miserable, miserable sneaking . . .”

Kelp said, “I think this is what they call a falling-out among thieves.”

Dortmunder said, “Bring yours around, Andy,” and to Fitzroy, he said, “When they get here, time for you to step out.”

Fitzroy was doing his best to get his cool back. “My friend,” he said, pretending he’d been calm all along, “John, I have no way of knowing, of course, what misapprehension you have about this evening. Irwin was merely to observe, to be a backup in case there was trouble.”

“There’s no trouble,” Dortmunder assured him, and the door beside Fitzroy opened, and Kelp said, “Come on out, Fitzroy.”

Dortmunder clambered past the coffin and stepped out onto the bridge. He shut the door, and when he came around to the front, the pistol easy at his side, Kelp had what must be Irwin’s pistol in his right hand and the other two were standing unhappily together by the rail. Irwin, the new one, was as scraggly as Fitzroy was plump, and no more appetizing.

Dortmunder said to Kelp, “Do you have the Voyager key?”

Kelp held up his left hand, to show a chain with a car key dangling from it. “Yes . . .” he said, and tossed the key over the rail, “. . . and no.”

“No!” cried Irwin.

“Too late,” Kelp told him.

Dortmunder said, “Fitzroy, do you by any chance have our two thousand dollars?”

Fitzroy actually looked embarrassed. “Not all of it,” he said.

Dortmunder pocketed Fitzroy’s pistol and held out his hand. “Wallet, Fitzroy.”

“Can’t we,” Fitzroy said, “can’t we discuss this?”

“Sure,” Dortmunder said. “What’s the scam?”

“No.”

“Wallet, Fitzroy, or I’m gonna shoot you in the knee, which you won’t like at all.”

Fitzroy didn’t like turning over his wallet at all, either, but grudgingly he did, and Dortmunder counted the bills in it, then gave Kelp a disgusted look. “Four hundred thirty-seven dollars.”

“I apologize, John,” Kelp said. “I didn’t think he was that much of a jerk.”

Dortmunder pocketed the money and gave back the wallet, then turned to Irwin: “Hand it over.”

Irwin looked astonished and outraged. “Me? Why me? I didn’t promise you any money!”

Dortmunder leaned closer to him. “Irwin,” he said, “you remember the threat with the knee?”

Irwin, grousing and complaining, throwing Fitzroy angry looks as though it were all his fault, pulled out his shabby wallet and handed it over. Dortmunder counted, gave the wallet back, pocketed the cash, and said to Kelp, “Another high roller. Two thirty-eight.”

Fitzroy said, “I can get you the rest of the money. Absolutely.”

“No, Fitzroy,” Dortmunder said. “The way it stands right now, you can’t pull your scam without us, because if you try to pull it without us, we’ll blow the whistle on you.”

“Pull the plug,” Kelp said.

“Point the finger,” Dortmunder finished. “So what it is, we’re your partners now. So all you have to do is tell us the scam.”

“Never,” Fitzroy said.

“Never’s a long time,” Dortmunder commented. “Let’s go, Andy.”

Fitzroy called, “What are you doing?” But since it was obvious what they were doing, they didn’t bother to answer him. What they were doing was, they were getting into the van, Dortmunder behind the wheel. Then they were making a K-turn on the bridge, while Fitzroy and Irwin stood staring at them. Then Dortmunder was lowering his window, so he could say, “When you want to talk to us, you know how to get in touch with Andy. On the Internet.” He closed the window, then drove back toward Long Island, saying, with deep scorn, “On the Internet.”

“There’s bad apples everywhere, John,” Kelp said.

“I’m a bad apple,” Dortmunder pointed out, “but you won’t find me on the Internet.”

“Oh, I know,” Kelp agreed. “I can barely get you to use a telephone. What are we gonna do with this vehicle?”

“Long-term parking at La Guardia for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll move it. Or maybe you will, you got us into this.”

Kelp sighed. “Okay, John.”

Dortmunder shook his head. “I can’t wait,” he said, “to tell May how the thousand dollars worked out.”